


Better with Age

by PFL (msmoat)



Category: The Professionals
Genre: Established Relationship, Future, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-19
Updated: 2016-12-19
Packaged: 2018-09-09 16:09:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8898721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msmoat/pseuds/PFL
Summary: Just a scene of one possible future.





	

Murphy paid the bill, then wended his way through the dining room towards the stairs that led to the loos. He thought the date was going well, but it had been so many years, he just wasn't certain. One thing he was certain of, he'd never live it down with his children if they found out he'd joined Match.com. But where else was a bloke his age—a widower—supposed to meet women these days? He hadn't dated since, well, since before CI5 had imploded. Barbara seemed nice. Maybe, just maybe— He stopped short as he caught a glimpse of a man seated at a table near the stairs. It couldn't be… Could it? That graceful slouch was unmistakable.

"Ray?" Murphy moved closer to the table. "Ray Doyle!"

Doyle looked up at him with the same unnerving, assessing stare he'd had all those years ago. A smile broke across Doyle's face. "Murphy! My God, it's been years."

"And then some. You look…well." Doyle was dressed in jeans and an open-necked blue shirt. His brown curls were gone, replaced with gray and white hair kept short, along with an all-white, trim beard and moustache. There were many new wrinkles on his face, but he looked fit, and Murphy noticed he still wore the same bangle and chain he'd worn back in CI5. 

"I am well," Doyle said. He gestured towards the chair across from him. "Sit for a moment. My partner's in the bathroom."

There was a half-filled glass of beer in front of Doyle, and a nearly empty one close to where Murphy settled on the chair. "It's funny, I was thinking about the past and then, suddenly…"

"There I was?"

"I'd say it was a coincidence, but Cowley didn't believe in coincidences."

Doyle smiled a little as he looked down at his drink. "And yet, much of our success was based precisely on that. In the right place, at the right time."

"Most often having been there for forty-eight hours or more."

"Without a break." Doyle laughed. "Don't remind me."

"Do you miss it?"

Doyle tilted his head. "Do you?"

Murphy shrugged. "Not the end, but…those early days, yeah. Sometimes."

"Rose-tinted glasses, my lad. Think of the stakeouts, the bullets, the CI5 Specials. Macklin!"

Murphy laughed. "True. But…I felt I was part of something bigger then. We did some good, saved some lives." He only realised, as the words came out, how defensive he sounded. After all these years, there was still some bitterness.

"Yes. We did." 

Murphy shook his head. "I've had a good life. After. Ended up doing analysis in the Home office. Raised a family. They've scattered now, but are doing well. My wife—" He looked down at his hands, rubbed the spot where the ring had been for so many years. "She died two years ago."

"I'm sorry."

"We had twenty-five years, and yet—"

"It's not enough, is it?"

Doyle's voice was rich with sympathy. Murphy noticed he wasn't wearing a ring, but he had mentioned a partner. Of course, he'd lost Bodie—in a way—all those years ago. Not that it was the same, but Doyle knew what it was like being alone when you were used to being one of a pair. And he and Bodie… Murphy looked up, into Doyle's eyes. "Is that what drove you to take it down? Bodie leaving?"

"He didn't just leave, did he?" There was an edge to Doyle's smile, reminding Murphy of the man he'd known in CI5. This was the Doyle who had, nearly single-handedly, brought down Willis's plot—and CI5 along with it. 

"No," Murphy said quietly. 

Doyle looked at him, then sighed. "I did it for Cowley—for the man he had been; for the reason he created CI5."

"England. Roses and Lavender. Incorruptible, but…a one man organisation." And thus vulnerable if the one man suffered an illness, as Cowley had. Early onset dementia, exacerbated by high blood pressure and heart disease. No one had wanted to see the signs. Willis had taken advantage of the situation, leading to nearly disastrous results. Doyle's interference had stopped that. Doyle's reward had been anger and vilification—until the truth had come out, but by then Doyle had left London. "I'm sorry."

Doyle sat back in his chair, eyebrows raised. "I don't regret it, except for the cause."

Murphy shook his head. "Not for that. For Bodie. For not believing him—or you."

Doyle's expression shifted, relaxed a bit. "Ah. Well, Bodie—"

"Did quite well for himself. Hallo, Murphy." Murphy looked up in shock as Bodie came down the stairs behind Doyle. He was dressed in black—did the man wear anything else? There was grey in his hair, but he looked as fit as Doyle, and his eyes were as rich a blue as ever. "Wouldn't you agree, Ray?"

Murphy shifted his gaze to Doyle, and found he was laughing, clearly enjoying Murphy's astonishment. "You—" He looked from one to the other of them. Bodie stood behind Doyle, his hand on Doyle's shoulder. "My God. It was all planned, wasn't it?"

Doyle gave a half-laugh. "No."

"Contingency planning," Bodie said.

" _Back-up_ contingency planning. That was supposed to be a joke."

"And then you got angry." Bodie grinned down at Doyle.

"Well, this is true." Doyle looked again at Murphy. "Bodie went underground—in disgrace as he was. Helped ferret out Willis's part in the whole rotten mess." He touched Bodie's hand on his shoulder. "He's the one who first saw the changes in Cowley."

"Much good that it did." 

Murphy sat back in his chair, staring at them. "My God. And all these years…? So, the rumours were true, then."

Bodie looked shocked. "Rumours? I never listen to—"

"Shut up, Bodie."

"You're…together." He realised, as he said it, that he'd never seen Bodie as relaxed as he was now.

"We're business partners," Doyle said. "Security, in a sense."

"Exclusive," Bodie added, then grinned: "In all ways."

Doyle rolled his eyes.

Murphy laughed—threw back his head and laughed, as he hadn't in some time. He caught sight of Barbara coming down the stairs. He stood, still smiling, and took her hand to guide her down the last step. She looked inquiringly from him to the men. "Bodie and Doyle are old friends of mine," he told her. "I haven't seen them in years. This is Barbara."

Doyle stood, and there were murmurs of greeting all around. Murphy saw that Bodie and Doyle had lost none of their charm when it came to women. He smoothly retrieved her hand from Bodie's grasp and placed it on his arm. "I'll be seeing you two. Now that I know you're here."

"Maybe." Bodie was still smiling at Barbara.

"We'd like that," Doyle said, digging an elbow into Bodie's side. "Might even talk a bit of business, if you're interested."

Murphy nodded, then, with Barbara beside him, walked away. He felt oddly buoyant, as if a weight had been lifted. Perhaps it had been—a weight he hadn't even realised he still carried. Cowley's CI5, founded on the vision of one idealistic, pragmatic, yet flawed man. Murphy had thought it broken and lost forever. Yet Bodie and Doyle remained—together and apparently flourishing—against all odds. He reckoned a bit of George Cowley survived in them. 

Outside, he took in a deep, cleansing breath. He was ready for change, he thought, and walked with Barbara into the night. 

The End  
December 2016

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by a photo Merentha13 sent to me for my birthday. Thank you!
> 
>  


End file.
